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Authors: Penny Jordan
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uncomfortable, looking past her towards Vidal, as though seeking his approval.
‘The house belongs to me,’ she reminded him. ‘And if I want to go there no one can stop me.’
There was a small silence, and then Fliss heard Vidal exhale.
‘I have some business to attend to at the
castillo,
Luis,’ he told the lawyer, using his Christian name for the first time. ‘I will escort Felicity there tomorrow, so that she can satisfy her curiosity.’
The lawyer was looking relieved and grateful, Fliss recognised, as Vidal stood up, signalling that their meetingwas over and saying, ‘We shall meet again in a few days’ time to progress this matter.’
Fliss noted that the lawyer avoided meeting her gaze when he shook hands with her before going, and that he and Vidal left the library together, leaving her still inside it and alone.
Alone.
She
was
alone now. Completely alone, with no family of her own. No one to support her; no one to protect her.
To
protect
her? From what? From Vidal? Or from those feelings Vidal aroused in her that led her body into responses to his maleness that were shamefully treacherous given what she already knew about him?
Shakily Fliss pushed the unwanted question away. So she had let down her guard accidentally, and somehow that had caused her to become aware of Vidal as a man. It had been a mistake, that was all—something she could put right by making sure that it didn’t happen again.
The copy of her father’s will that Señor Gonzales had given her was still on the desk. Fliss picked it up, her attention drawn to her father’s signature. How many times as a child she had whispered that name over and over again to herself, as though it was some kind of magic charm that would cause her father to become a part of her life. But her father had
not
been part of her life, and she would not find him in the house in which he had lived. How could she when he was dead? She had to go there, though. She had to see it.
Because Vidal did not want her to?
No! Not because of that. Because of her father—not because of Vidal.
Fliss felt as though her emotions were threatening to suffocate her. She could hardly breathe from the force of her own feelings. She had to get out of this house. She had to breathe some air that was not tainted by Vidal’s presence.
The hallway was empty when she walked through it, heading for the stairs and intent on getting her handbag and her sunglasses. She would go out and see something of the city—cleanse her mind of the unwanted influence that Vidal seemed to be exerting over it.
Ten minutes later Vidal watched from the library window as Fliss left the house. If he had had his way her departure would have been for the airport and England—and permanent. He had enough to think about without having her around, reminding him of things he would preferred to have left shrouded in the shadows of the past.
He still hadn’t come to terms with his own behaviour last night—or with his inability to impose his will on his body.
CHAPTER FOUR
S HE had spent virtually all day exploring the city. The city, but not the Alhambra—she wasn’t ready for that yet. She felt too raw after this morning’s run-in with Vidal—too vulnerable to visit the place where her father had first declared his love for her mother, where the boy had witnessed that exchange and then reported it to his grandmother.
A small tapas bar had provided her with lunch. She hadn’t been very hungry, and in fact felt she had not done proper justice to the delicious delicacies that had been served up for her.
Now, with her exploration of the conservation site that was the old Moorish quarter of the city behind her, she was forced to admit that her body had probably had a surfeit of hard pavements and intense sunshine. It craved the cool shade promised by the courtyard garden her bedroom overlooked.
The same shy maid who had brought her breakfast opened the door for her when she pulled the bell.
‘The house belongs to me,’ she reminded him. ‘And if I want to go there no one can stop me.’
There was a small silence, and then Fliss heard Vidal exhale.
‘I have some business to attend to at the
castillo,
Luis,’ he told the lawyer, using his Christian name for the first time. ‘I will escort Felicity there tomorrow, so that she can satisfy her curiosity.’
The lawyer was looking relieved and grateful, Fliss recognised, as Vidal stood up, signalling that their meetingwas over and saying, ‘We shall meet again in a few days’ time to progress this matter.’
Fliss noted that the lawyer avoided meeting her gaze when he shook hands with her before going, and that he and Vidal left the library together, leaving her still inside it and alone.
Alone.
She
was
alone now. Completely alone, with no family of her own. No one to support her; no one to protect her.
To
protect
her? From what? From Vidal? Or from those feelings Vidal aroused in her that led her body into responses to his maleness that were shamefully treacherous given what she already knew about him?
Shakily Fliss pushed the unwanted question away. So she had let down her guard accidentally, and somehow that had caused her to become aware of Vidal as a man. It had been a mistake, that was all—something she could put right by making sure that it didn’t happen again.
The copy of her father’s will that Señor Gonzales had given her was still on the desk. Fliss picked it up, her attention drawn to her father’s signature. How many times as a child she had whispered that name over and over again to herself, as though it was some kind of magic charm that would cause her father to become a part of her life. But her father had
not
been part of her life, and she would not find him in the house in which he had lived. How could she when he was dead? She had to go there, though. She had to see it.
Because Vidal did not want her to?
No! Not because of that. Because of her father—not because of Vidal.
Fliss felt as though her emotions were threatening to suffocate her. She could hardly breathe from the force of her own feelings. She had to get out of this house. She had to breathe some air that was not tainted by Vidal’s presence.
The hallway was empty when she walked through it, heading for the stairs and intent on getting her handbag and her sunglasses. She would go out and see something of the city—cleanse her mind of the unwanted influence that Vidal seemed to be exerting over it.
Ten minutes later Vidal watched from the library window as Fliss left the house. If he had had his way her departure would have been for the airport and England—and permanent. He had enough to think about without having her around, reminding him of things he would preferred to have left shrouded in the shadows of the past.
He still hadn’t come to terms with his own behaviour last night—or with his inability to impose his will on his body.
CHAPTER FOUR
S HE had spent virtually all day exploring the city. The city, but not the Alhambra—she wasn’t ready for that yet. She felt too raw after this morning’s run-in with Vidal—too vulnerable to visit the place where her father had first declared his love for her mother, where the boy had witnessed that exchange and then reported it to his grandmother.
A small tapas bar had provided her with lunch. She hadn’t been very hungry, and in fact felt she had not done proper justice to the delicious delicacies that had been served up for her.
Now, with her exploration of the conservation site that was the old Moorish quarter of the city behind her, she was forced to admit that her body had probably had a surfeit of hard pavements and intense sunshine. It craved the cool shade promised by the courtyard garden her bedroom overlooked.
The same shy maid who had brought her breakfast opened the door for her when she pulled the bell.
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